


Jingle Bells in a minor key...

by PumpkinDoodles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Post-Break Up, The Sads, angsty fic, pre-christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-01-30 13:17:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21428854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Darcy knew the move back to DC would be difficult, but she didn't count on getting a bad case of the holiday sads.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 175
Kudos: 492





	1. Between Puente Antiguo and London, There's DC

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winchesterxgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchesterxgirl/gifts).

> *I own nothing! Chapters I and II of this (I Fall Apart) were part of the tumblr prompts series for winchesterxgirl and I decided to add a holiday-themed follow up and put everything in one place.

_ This Christmas _

Washington, DC

“Are you still listening to that?” Jane said, knocking on Darcy’s half-open bedroom door and sticking her head in.

“What?” Darcy said. “It’s my holiday playlist.”

“Darce,” Jane said, sighing. “Listening to Joni Mitchell’s “River” and the mopey _ She & Him _Christmas albums are not how you deal with your problems.”

“I don’t have a problem,” Darcy muttered. “Besides, “River” is a way better non-traditional Christmas song than “Imagine.” I hate that song. I think I might actually want you to slap John Lennon, Jane. If you ever work out time travel.”

“Uh-huh,” Jane said. “I thought we were all moving forward or whatever?”

“I’m just not feeling it today,” Darcy said. “I’m not in the mood.” 

“You don’t want to bake cookies with Thor or watch a movie or something more cheerful? Ian’s coming over in a little bit...” Jane said carefully.

“I just wanna stay in bed,” Darcy said, pressing her lips together. 

“Okay,” Jane said, sighing.

  
  
  
***

_Sometime in 2012 or 2013...._

She was packing all her things when he got back from his second round at the gym. “Damn,” Darcy muttered to herself. She was two minutes from being gone.

“You don’t have to go tonight,” Brock said, pausing in the doorway. He looked weary.

“No, I think I should,” she said. She was tired of their fights. Last night’s had been the worst they’d ever had. She’d called him every name she could think of--_ selfish, cheating, emotionally-unavailable, vain, piece of shit-- _and he’d slept on the couch, radiating hostility, before heading off to beat the hell out of somebody at one of his gyms. They seemed incapable of agreeing on anything lately. Darcy suspected he was fooling around with someone. She’d heard rumors at work, even as isolated as she was in Jane’s lab, where it was just the two of them. And then a few days ago, she’d caught Brock leaning over the desk of one of the cute blonde techs. The new tech was twenty-three and right out of college. He’d been smirking. Darcy knew the social significance of that smirk. That’s when she’d started taking the rumors seriously.

“I don’t understand why you’re going, I told you, there’s nobody--” he began, before she rolled her eyes.

“At least respect me enough not to lie to my face. Did you think I couldn’t hack your phone?” she asked. He went a little pale.

“You hacked my phone?” he said, trying to turn it back on her or something.

“I dunno,” she said, playing dumb, “it must be some guy’s phone, there were all those nudes on it. Whose could they be?” She zipped up her bag. “I’m out,” she said. Darcy tossed her key on his bed and walked out into the living room. He followed, arms folded. “I think this is all my stuff, but if you find anything else, just...throw it away?” she called back.

“So, that’s how it’s going to be?” Brock said. She didn’t reply. Why bother? She determined that the best thing to do was avoid him in the future. She was going to discuss it with Jane as soon as she got to the apartment.

***

Jane traded their always-meant-to-be-temporary DC lab in for a more permanent SHIELD lab in Norway two weeks later. That made everything easier. Darcy could get used to the cold. She started up her on-again, off-again Ian thing. There were no fireworks, but also no tears.

They were at a museum in Oslo on a daytrip, just a fun one, when the news about the HYDRA Uprising flashed across Darcy’s phone screen. “Darce? Darce, what’s wrong?” Jane said, looking away from an exhibit. “What happened?” she asked.

“Something bad,” Darcy said. “Really bad.” Across the room, Ian was making his way towards them.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, love?” he said in a concerned voice, frowning down at her.

“Uh, something at SHIELD, you should call Thor, ASAP,” Darcy told Jane.

She heard a bevy of increasingly horrifying reports over the next few weeks: that he was dead, that he was HYDRA, that he was not dead, but still HYDRA, before someone finally called to say he’d been feeding information to Hill and Fury when everything went sideways. They’d all been trying to stop Pierce and Project Insight, things had just gone a little wrong. She didn’t know how wrong until she saw the news reports about Crossbones and had to sit down.

Fury told Jane he wanted her to form the core of SHIELD’s new R&D team. “He wants us based in DC?” Jane said tentatively. “Are you okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Darcy said, organizing their stuff as a pre-move thing. She’d suspected as much. Jane crossed her arms and looked at Darcy intently.

“Hello, your ex is neither a Nazi nor a terrorist,” Jane whispered, so Ian--watching football on a laptop--wouldn’t overhear. “He was just stealing stuff back from HYDRA.”

“Yes, yes, very cloak and dagger,” Darcy said. “Or skull and crossbones or whatever, but Jane, you’re forgetting--”

“You were crazy about him, you cried for months,” Jane hissed. “Like, every single time he’s in an international incident, you’re a basketcase--”

“Pot meet kettle,” Darcy said. “As I was saying, you’re omitting one thing.”

“What?” Jane said.

“Still a cheating skank,” Darcy supplied. “Possessor of a wandering wang, a dirtbag, a guy with a million nekkid photos of other women,” she added.

“Oh,” Jane said. “I forgot.”

“I didn’t,” Darcy said.

Still, she was unprepared to see him. Especially with his new scars. The first time, it was one of those new SHIELD-wide staff meetings that were really motivational seminars in disguise. He looked so different, she actually wondered if it was him, squinting. He was across the auditorium, so it was possible she could have the wrong guy...but then his eyes met hers for a fraction of a second and then resumed their indifferent sweep of the room. Definitely Brock.

They only saw each other from a distance usually. She would smile politely and nod, thinking _no need to be a total bitch, _as she and Ian left the building to fetch Jane’s lunch or Jane’s new equipment, and even once, Thor, when he’d gone MIA at the dog park. So, Darcy felt pretty comfortable when she ran into him in the breakroom alone. She recognized the back of his head, the way he tended to carry himself. Plus, his hair was still really nice. Good for him, her brain supplied, he’d always had beautiful hair. “Hi,” she said. Brock looked over his shoulder.

“Hello,” he said flatly. Giving him a brief smile, Darcy started making she and Ian and Jane’s individual coffee orders. She’d slotted Ian’s medium roast pod into the machine when she realized Brock was looking at her. His eyes flicked away immediately.

As the machine sputtered and brewed, she decided to clear the air. “Listen, I know it’s difficult to see each other at work--” Darcy began, trying to channel a more mature, polished version of herself that must exist _somewhere. _If she kept her voice calm, she thought, she wouldn’t get upset next to this coffee pot in the SHIELD breakroom nearest their lab in the new compound. He scoffed, pulling her out of her stay calm mantra. “What is it?” Darcy said, genuinely confused. Had she hurt his feelings somehow?

“You can’t just stand there and look at me like that and not expect me to fall apart!” he said, in a louder voice.

“I don’t understand,” Darcy said.

“You think I don’t feel your pity? I see the way you look at me, when you’re wandering around with that Braithwaite guy---” Brock began.

“His name is Boothby,” Darcy said.

“Oh, yeah, that matters,” Brock said. “You can take your fucking pity--”

“Oh bite me, asshole, I don’t feel that sorry for you,” Darcy said.

“Oh yeah?” he said.

“You’re still an immature manslut, obviously,” she shot back.

“Goddammit, it’s been how long and you’re still on that? I told you, those weren’t new,” he said. “They were deleted. Deleted.” He’d sounded out the word slowly. That made Darcy get in his face.

“What about Tech Girl, huh? Madison or whatever her name was--” Darcy said. He snorted.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I shot that woman and you’re still jealous?” he said.

“What?” Darcy said.

“She was HYDRA, I wasn’t actually into her, I was just getting information,” he said.

“I know what you were getting,” Darcy said.

“She’s in jail!” he yelled.

“I’m sure it’s nice to have a pen pal,” Darcy said sharply. Then she took her coffees and left. He was still sputtering in anger. “Ugh, you won’t believe what just happened!” Darcy announced, walking into the lab.

“Let me guess, Brock?” Jane said, sipping her coffee. “Because you forgot my sugar.”

“Shit,” Darcy said.

“This is how it starts,” Jane said.

“Nuh-uh, no way, he can keep his HYDRA girlfriend in prison,” Darcy said. Jane rolled her eyes.

“I’m not breaking up with Ian for you after he catches the two of you having sex in here or something,” Jane said.

“Please, I would never,” Darcy said. “He would, though. He’s such a smug---”

Jane sighed.


	2. Love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing

Darcy tried to avoid Brock at SHIELD, she really did. She didn’t need to get back into all that drama with her ex. It shouldn’t matter that he’d been undercover with HYDRA. Or that he’d been badly burned. He’d still probably slept with that Madison chick. Probably. He’d insulted Ian, too! That was unforgivable! Darcy seized that thought and held onto it whenever she was tempted to fret about him and wonder if he was getting good medical care or if his mental state was okay. Doubtless he was struggling, though; she knew he’d always been a little vain about his face. It was a good face. Why did the men with the good faces turn out to be cheaters? She was sitting with Ian at lunch one day, thinking about how impossible Brock was, when Ian waved a hand in front of her eyes. “Love?” he said gently.

“Huh?” Darcy said.

“You checked out for a bit,” Ian said.

“Sorry,” she said apologetically. 

“You haven’t finished lunch, I’m worried about you,” Ian teased. 

“Oh,” Darcy said, looking down. She looked back at Ian. He was done. “You don’t have to wait for me,” she said. She hadn’t finished her fries. And Ian was running an experiment with Jane, who’d refused to leave the lab.

“All right,” Ian said cheerfully. He stood up. “See you in a bit.” It was only when Ian walked away that she realized Brock was sitting three tables back, directly in her line of sight. He raised an eyebrow at her. She glared and then went back to her French fries. She would concentrate on her fries and leave...

“He bores you,” Brock said, pulling Ian’s chair back and sitting down. 

“Excuse me?” she said, jerking up.

“You’re bored with Fish and Chips,” he said dryly. He stole one of her fries.

“Hey!” Darcy said. He’d always done that. He said he didn’t eat carbs, but then he stole her fries or some of her popcorn. He’d always been mildly troublesome like that--eating her fries, teasing her, surprising her with bouquets made of her favorite Reese’s Cups after a fight.

“I’ll get you more,” he said casually. 

“Why are you eating my lunch and insulting Ian?”

“You know why,” he said, tilting his head. Darcy rolled her eyes.

“No,” she said. “I don’t.”

“Sure you do,” he said, smirking slowly. “Dump him and we can start again. For real this time. No secret work I have to keep from you getting in the way.”

“You’re joking,” Darcy said.

“Nope,” he said. “Foster still have that good supply closet for fooling around in?” He smirked at her. Darcy stared, jaw dropping.

“What is freaking wrong with you?” she hissed. “You think I’m just going to leave Ian and sneak around with you? Again?” They’d done a bit of sneaking around at the beginning of their first, ill-fated relationship. He tilted his scarred face at her and stole another fry.

“Yeah,” he said, “I do.”

“You’re insane!” Darcy told him in a low voice, so no one would overhear. He grinned at her, spreading his palms on the table and drumming his fingers.

“So what? I’m supposed to disagree or some shit?” he said. “You think sane people infiltrate HYDRA?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she said, hunching over her fries protectively. “Stop eating my fries.”

“Craziest thing I ever did was letting you leave without telling you the truth,” he said suddenly. His fingers stopped drumming. “I mean that.”

“I’m not upset about that,” Darcy said reflexively. “You couldn’t tell me about HYDRA.”

“Don’t fucking tell me you’re only upset with me about the imaginary other women,” he said. Darcy sighed. He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I’ll get you more fries,” he said, standing up. When he came back to the table with her fries, he straddled the chair and grinned.

“Don’t make smug faces at me,” Darcy said.

“These are okay, but they’re not your favorites. I got a fun new place on U Street,” he told her. “You want to meet me for drinks sometime? I remember how much you like mai tais.”

“You know we can’t just pretend like this is normal,” Darcy said in frustration. “Ian cares about me.”

“Sure,” Brock said, shrugging, “but I love you, sweetheart. That’s what I should’ve told you more.” 

“Brock,” Darcy said, heart catching in her throat. He’d never said it before. She looked at him, uncertain. He slid her fries closer.

“Eat your French fries,” he said. “We can sort out your complicated love life later.”

“I’m going to throw this ketchup at you,” Darcy vowed, vulnerability shifting to irritation. “You’re like human sandpaper.”

“Yeah,” he said, scrunching his nose. “You always liked that about me.”

“Ketchup packet,” Darcy threatened. He laughed. 


	3. Christmas Crackers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy had turned down the Christmas music enough to hear Ian when Jane let him in. She couldn’t tell if he asked where she was, but she decided that she needed to pull herself together and put on her happy face. Even if it was fake. So, she slapped a little Rosebud salve on, straightened up her clothes, and padded out in her comfiest slipper socks. Thor was hanging twinkle lights in the living room. 

“Darcy!” Thor said. She smiled. Ian looked up from the kitchen island. He was surrounded by shopping totes. Reuseable ones, Darcy thought. Ian had always cared more about the environment than her. He was responsible like that.

“Hullo,” Ian said brightly. “I brought Christmas crackers, Darce.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, “that’s really great.” She had always liked those.

“He brought food, too,” Jane added, making faces behind Ian.

“I thought we could have a regular holiday feast,” Ian said. “Very festive.”

“Great,” Darcy repeated, not feeling great at all. “Festive.” But she thawed a little as she, Ian, and Jane worked in the kitchen. They had all known each other so long, it was easy to fall back into old routines, that familiar rhythm. Ian was a great cook, if a bit too healthy for her taste. Thor kept adding more lights, Darcy played some Jane-approved holiday music, and they warmed up all the dishes Ian had brought. It was fun to set the table with some recently-purchased china, too. Cheap china, but still. This was home now. The realization hit Darcy hard. She lived here now. Permanently. There would be no more moving around, so they could have real china. And she wouldn’t have the distraction of travel to keep her from dwelling. On Brock. Brock who would be her coworker now--forever. “Darce?” Ian said. “You all right?”

“Yes,” she lied. She only stuttered a bit. 

They were eating when Ian smiled at Darcy. “So,” he said cheerfully, “what’s on the docket for a DC Christmas? Anywhere special you’re going or want to go?”

“I dunno,” Darcy said. “It’s so chilly, I haven’t been in the mood to look. Just snuggling down with my blankets and my cocoa.” She really hadn’t thought about it at all. Her moods were so down with everything that had happened recently. Brock’s confession of feelings, her relationship with Ian....

“Not as chilly as Norway, surely,” Ian said, making Darcy look up sharply. “You can hack it, Darce. You’re made of tough stuff.”

“Tough stuff,” Darcy echoed, trying not to roll her eyes. She didn’t feel tough. 

“Quite tough,” Thor said, beaming gently.

“You are,” Jane said, giving her a more significant look. Darcy wiggled her eyebrows and Jane got the hint to change the subject. She shifted abruptly. “This chicken is great, Ian.”

“Indeed,” Thor echoed. “Very fine.”

“Thank you,” Ian said. “I added the seasonings, but really it’s just the chicken breast that they do.” He’d bought some things from a specialty market. Darcy knew he’d spent money. That was one reason she was trying to mask her Debbie Downer mood. He deserved better than that.

“You’ve always been good about...seasonings,” she told him.

“What about one of museums?” Ian said, turning back to Darcy. “You talked about how they’re free here?”

“Yes,” Darcy said. There was really no way to dodge that one. She’d said it. That was how she ended up planning a Smithsonian outing with Thor, Jane, and Ian. And watching  _ Die Hard. _ When Ian got up to leave, she walked him to the door. 

“Goodnight, Darce,” Ian said softly, giving Darcy a gentle hug.

“Thanks for tonight,” she said. “I had fun.”

“Right?” Ian said. “We made the right decision, didn’t we?”

“We did,” Darcy said, kissing him gently on the cheek. They’d broken up. She’d gone to talk to him after Brock’s confession. Ian had guessed she was unhappy, because he was a little bored, too. They hadn’t been gelling, he’d said. Darcy had agreed. So, they had broken up. But it had been very amicable. They were still working together. No one had even realized it at SHIELD. Not even Brock. Darcy was freaking out about that. She was scared to talk to him. Being single made it all too real. If they failed this time, it was on them, not undercover work or distance. Every time Darcy thought about talking to Brock, she started to sweat and panic internally.

When the door shut, Jane looked at her. “You’re okay?” Jane said quietly.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I guess? That was weird, right? I mean, nice but...strange.”

“A little,” Jane admitted.

“I thought it was a pleasant evening,” Thor said. “And I am looking forward to that exhibit.”

  
  



	4. Merry and Bright?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“How are you feeling?” Jane asked, as they parked at SHIELD. Now that Ian wasn’t spending the night with her frequently, it was just Darcy and Jane carpooling to work together. Thor had Mew-Mew’d to the SHIELD gym earlier to hit things.

“Hmm?” Darcy said. She had just been distracted as they walked by a huddle of STRIKE agents. She realized Brock wasn’t among them. “I’m good. Last night went well. I think we’ll be able to work together okay and be friends,” she told Jane.

“I meant about You Know Who,” Jane said, swiping her building card.

“He’s not Voldemort,” Darcy said, feeling a weird urge to giggle nervously as they went inside. 

“Seriously, though,” she said, looking at Darcy expectantly. “You told me that as soon as you were single, you’d talk to him, but it’s been, what, two weeks?”

“Are you collecting data?” Darcy joked, then grew serious. “God, I don’t know. I’m experiencing anxiety. He hasn’t talked to me or approached me at all. And I’m nervous, Jane. What if he wasn’t serious? I mean, I’m not unhappy that Ian and I called it, but this is _ him.” _

“I still think you should talk to him,” Jane said reasonably.

“You know how I get when he’s around--” she was saying, when she saw Ian waiting by the elevator to the lab floor. “There’s Ian,” she said, ending the Brock conversation. She wanted to be sensitive of Ian’s feelings. 

“Hullo,” he said brightly. "I just hit the button."

“Hi,” they said in unison. Everything was cool, Darcy thought. They were doing this breakup well, no matter her issues with her ex. They chatted as the elevator ascended. The four of them were planning a holiday party, as normal. 

“Who should we invite?” Ian wondered. “We’ve never worked with this many people?” 

“I dunno,” Jane said. “Darce?” 

“I dunno, either!” Darcy said, shrugging. “Let me do some calculations and see if we have money to rent somewhere, if you want to invite lots of people?”

“That seems complicated,” Ian said. Darcy scrunched her nose.

“Yeah,” Jane said. “Small party at our place then? Maybe twenty five people or so?”

“I’ll start a SHIELDNotes Doc,” Darcy said, “so we can all keep track of who we invite?”

“Good,” Jane and Ian said in unison. 

“Yes,” she agreed, feeling buoyed. A little.

Everything was good until the elevator doors opened. Darcy almost gasped like a giant goober when she saw Brock and Jack Rollins on the other side of the metal. There was a fractional pause. “Hullo,” Ian said cheerfully. Both men stepped on. Brock nodded, scarred face tight. Darcy saw him exhale and tilt his head away a little as he moved. It was one of his characteristic gestures. When he avoided things, she thought with a sinking heart. Did he not want to see her?

“G’day,” Jack said, still sounding odd to Darcy with his natural Australian accent. When they’d known each other before, he’d been pretending to be American and mostly grunted. Or growled. “Ladies, Mr. Boothby.”

“I can’t get used to that,” Jane told him. Jack smiled.

“She has a weakness for Australians,” Ian joked.

“We don’t tell Thor,” Jane said. 

“It’s bloody nice for me,” Jack confessed. “Never could get a handle on my American. Mostly had to grunt.”

“You did all right,” Brock told him. He half glanced back at Darcy standing behind him. She gave him a nervous smile. He didn’t smile back.

“Why don’t you come to our holiday party?” Ian said cheerfully. “The four of us are having a little one.”

“We’d love to have you both,” Jane said quickly.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “I would. Love to have you...come.” Looking back at her, Brock raised an eyebrow. She had to press her lips together not to laugh. He caught the change in her face and smirked.

“That’s very kind of you,” Jack said. “Count me in.”

“Real nice,” Brock said. The doors opened. But he didn’t move--he was half-turned, looking at Darcy. He looked like he wanted to say something. His expression was serious. She knew that expression, despite the scars. He inhaled, ready to speak. That was when Jack said something.

“Our floor, mate.”

“Yeah,” Brock said. He nodded and stepped off.

“Oh my God,” Jane whispered, giggling, when the doors closed. 

“Shut up,” Darcy said. “Right now!” She pointed at Jane. 

“What? I don’t get it,” Ian said, cheerfully baffled. 

“She’s trying to be a bad influence, Ian,” Darcy said, “don’t listen.”

“I thought you were the bad influence one,” he said mildly. That only made Jane laugh harder. 

“Pffht,” Darcy said, sticking out her tongue.

“Are we putting decorations in the lab?” Ian asked.

“We should,” Jane said. “Secular ones.”

“All right,” Darcy said. “Both of you are forcing me to be merry and bright,” she said in mock-offense, “it’s very annoying of you when this was my Christmas to be jaded and cynical.”

“Merry and bright,” Jane singsonged.

“Like you’d even know what that is,” Darcy complained. “You’d run over Santa to get some science tech.”

“She probably would,” Ian said. But Darcy wondered what Brock had been about to say. She couldn’t shake her curiosity. It bugged her. 

Finally, Jane looked at her before lunch. “Go see him,” she whispered. “You know you want to! He’ll be fine.” She cut her eyes at Ian. “He’s totally fine.” 

“Jane,” she said back. Darcy had fussed at her in the bathroom for potentially putting Ian in an uncomfortable spot with Brock jokes, but Jane had pointed out that both of them would date other people eventually. 

“Go,” Jane said. “Be merry and bright.”

“Blah, fine,” Darcy said. “I’m going. I’ll bring back coffee.”

  
  


She was walking nervously towards Brock’s office when she realized that the door was half-open and there were voices inside. She recognized his voice. But the second voice was a female one. It was familiar, but Darcy couldn’t place it. Asking if he was busy on Saturday. 

“I dunno,” he said.

“Rumlow--”

“Fine, I’ll go,” Brock said. “How many people at this thing?”

“Less than a dozen, but you and Rebecca would have plenty of time together,” she said. Her words made Darcy go still. _ Rebecca? Who the hell was Rebecca, _Darcy thought. He was obviously dating. Her stomach sank. She was about to turn and flee when one of the other STRIKE agents appeared at the end of the hallway and said her name.

“Hey, Darcy,” he said. “How are you?”

“I’m great,” Darcy lied, hurrying over to talk to him. As she was exchanging pleasantries, the woman emerged from Brock’s office a foot or two away. Darcy caught a glimpse of red hair and realized it was Natasha Romanoff. They’d met a few times. Darcy knew she liked setting people up. Brock was on her heels.

“Darcy?” Brock said, looking surprised. He and Natasha stopped to talk to her.

“Hello. How are you?” Natasha asked.

“Hi,” she said awkwardly. “I’m--I’m good.” It was mildly agonizing, for a social chat. She managed to say a few things and make her excuses and flee while Natasha was still there, just to avoid a weird confrontation with Brock. He was looking at her oddly.

“Well?” Jane said, when she returned, pale, sweaty, and coffeeless.

“Natasha Romanoff is setting him up on dates, I overheard them,” Darcy said. Jane frowned.

“Well, shit.”

“Uh-huh. I got the hell out of there. Where’s Ian?” Darcy asked.

“I sent him out for coffee,” Jane said. “He just texted to say he’s getting you a peppermint mocha.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. She sat down. “What do I do?”

“No idea,” Jane said. “Try again? Or do you need more twinkle lights?”

“I definitely need more twinkle lights,” she said, feeling gloomy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this story is just me leaning into my love of You've Got Mail and how bittersweet it is: twinkle lights, sad Joni Mitchell, and an exceptionally civilized and kind Darcy/Ian breakup a la Meg Ryan and Greg Kinnear.


	5. All I Want for Christmas...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Damn it,” Brock said. “Motherfucker--” Natasha tilted her head at him and grinned slyly. He’d watched Darcy back away quzzically, then proceeded to swear. She waited for the torrent of words to end. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said. Rumlow sighed heavily. “Why was she here?” he wondered out loud. 

“To see you, obviously,” Romanoff said. “I doubt she was just passing by. “ She gestured. His office was at the end of a hallway.

“Yeah. Fucking Boothby invited me to their Christmas party,” he muttered. “Maybe she doesn’t want me there. Shit.” His expression was dark.

“You want her back?” she asked. He wasn’t obvious about it, but Rumlow’s eyes followed Darcy whenever they were in the same room. Natasha had a general idea that they’re been together before the Uprising.

“Of course I fucking do,” Brock said. “I told her I did and that she should leave him, we could start again. For real this time.”

“And?” Natasha asked.

“And nothing,” he said. “Fucker invited me to their goddamn holiday party, what does that say to you?”

“It could mean many things,” she told him. “She doesn’t seem to hate you.”

“Oh, that’s cheerful,” he said sarcastically. “She doesn’t hate me.” They were walking down the hall when he spoke again. “I can’t go to your dinner thing, Romanoff,” he said. “I don’t want to date anybody else.” He jabbed the elevator button with more emphasis than necessary.

“Uh-huh,” she said wryly. They stepped on board the elevator and he sighed again.

“How do I get her back?” he said. “There’s gotta be something--”

“What have you tried?” she asked, curious.

“I told her how I felt,” he said. Natasha started to laugh. “What?” he said.

“That doesn’t exactly sound like sweeping her off her feet,” she said. 

“My pardon doesn’t cover kidnapping,” he said dryly. The elevator dinged. They were headed to Analytics. He nodded at several agents as they walked. 

“You know what I mean,” the Russian said. “Try a little harder.” His expression cycled between cynicism and confusion.

“Yeah,” he said. It was practically a sigh. "How?" he asked, grimacing.

“You can’t tell me that you just told her that you were interested and expected it work?” Natasha said. 

“It worked before,” he said quietly. 

“You said you liked her and--?”

“We had sex in Foster’s supply closet,” he said in a low voice. Then he smirked, scars twisting. At Natasha’s look, he got defensive. “What? I used to be that kind of a guy. I mean, I think I still look good, all things considered.”

“Sure,” Natasha said evenly.

“She doesn’t care about my injuries,” he added. “I thought maybe she did but it turns out she was still pissed about finding nudes on my phone, back when we lived together. I panicked. Back then.” He paused with his hand on the door to one of the techs' rooms.

“I don’t need to know this,” Natasha said.

“They were old pictures,” he said. “She found ‘em in a shadow folder. I'd forgotten they were there.” They walked in. Cameron Klein was sitting twelve feet away, in the center of the room. "It wasn't that many nudes--"

“Please stop talking,” Natasha said. A seated tech glanced up, expression curious.

“I was worried she’d found something HYDRA-related. She’s a good hacker,” Brock said, voice thoughtful. “People don’t know that about her, but she’s good at lots of things.” He said it in an admiring tone.

“Your pride is evident,” Natasha said wryly.

“I am,” he said, grinning. “That’s my girl.” Then his smile fell. “Fucking Boothby,” he said grimly, so low only she could hear. At the change in his expression, some of the techs looked at each other.

“He seems like a perfectly nice individual,” Natasha said.

“I hate his voice, his name, and his dumbass hats,” Brock said.

“I have seen you wear a knit cap when you travel,” she pointed out.

“Mine were cool,” he insisted. “And my ears get cold, Romanoff.”


	6. Pretty Paper, Pretty Ribbons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy was home alone that night when she decided to make herself some sadness-lifting fettuccine. She loved noodles. They were intrinsically comforting. Thor and Jane were out on a date and Darcy had the kitchen and the whole apartment to herself. So the apartment wouldn’t be too quiet, she turned on a podcast. It was nice to listen to pleasant voices as she salted the pasta water and got out the ingredients for her sauce. “Where are you?” she murmured, looking for the nutmeg grinder in the cabinet. “Ah, hiding behind the oregano, you sneaky little ‘meg,” she said out loud. She put the little glass bottle next to her butter, but paused for a second. Nigella Lawson was talking about cooking as therapy on her podcast, her voice smooth and lilting. Darcy always joked with Ian that everything, even the worst clichés, sounded more profound in a British accent. It made her grin. _ Burnt Toast _was a very good podcast. She was stirring the fettuccine when someone knocked on the door. Startled, Darcy peered out of the peephole and realized it was a delivery person. Jane had probably ordered something. “Hi,” she said, opening the door.

“Delivery for Darcy Lewis?” he said.

“That’s me,” she said, signing the tablet he offered. “Working late for the holidays?”

“Yes,” the man said, smiling in recognition. “Thanks.” He handed her the small box and departed. 

“Hmm,” Darcy said. The box wasn’t light, but it wasn’t heavy either. “Are you a Christmas present?” she asked out loud, once she’d gone inside. Darcy had no idea what this was, but she decided she might sneak a look at it after she ate. She set the box on the kitchen counter and went back to her fettuccine. As she stirred the pasta, she kept glancing at the box. Surely, Jane wouldn’t mind if she looked at a gift with her name on it, right? Right? She finally broke and grabbed the household scissors a few minutes later. “Present for me, present for me,” she was singsonging when she cut open the tape and peered inside. Underneath the packaging was a shiny, pretty box with a designer label. “Holy shih tzu,” Darcy said. She opened the box carefully. Inside was a bottle of perfume in the shape of a bow. She grabbed her phone to call Jane. This had to be a mistake. It was a really nice gift. The bottle was beautiful, a deep pink. There was no way Jane spent that much money. Jane was thrifty and practical. Unless she knew Darcy needed cheering up? The scientist answered on the first ring.

“Hey, Darce--”

“Did you order me a perfume?” she interrupted. “Something called Bonbon?”

“What?” Jane said.

“You didn’t?”

“No,” Jane said. “I haven’t ordered anything.” Just then, Darcy’s pasta timer dinged.

“I need to get that, it’s my fettuccine,” she told Jane.

“You’re making fettuccine?” Jane said, as Darcy drained the noodles. Her voice was plaintive.

“I’ll save you some, but we need to call the credit card people and figure this out--”

“Did you check the card?” Jane asked, sounding canny. “Check the card.” 

“Okay,” Darcy said, setting down her pot on the stove and turning the butter into the noodles. The butter melted from the heat of the still-warm burner. “Gimme a minute,” she said, stirring and tossing in her grated cheese.

“What are you doing?” Jane said.

“Alfredo sauce. Do you want fettuccine or no?” Darcy said. 

“Fine,” Jane said. “Just hurry.”

“You’re very bossy,” Darcy said.

“It’s one of my good qualities,” Jane said. Darcy laughed. She’d made herself a bowl when Jane finally got her to look. The small card was inside some of the tissue paper. 

“Here it is--oh my God, this is a gift from Brock,” she said. “He bought me fancy perfume?”

“Uh-huh,” Jane said, still on the phone. Darcy could hear Thor talking in a happy voice to people in the background. “I knew it! Call him.” 

“There’s one problem with this plan,” she told Jane.

“What?” Jane said.

“I don’t actually have his number,” Darcy said, sighing. 

"You're kidding."

"He never gave me his new one," she explained.

“I’ll see who I can call,” Jane said, hanging up on Darcy abruptly. 

“Well,” Darcy said, looking at the phone as it bonked to indicate the call had ended. 

Jane called back a few minutes later. “I don’t have his number yet, but I’m still looking,” she told Darcy. “I wish Thor had a phone.

Nat would know his number, but Thor doesn’t know hers. Jennifer from the physics lab says he lives in that SHIELD complex.”

“Yeah, ” Darcy said, confused, but hopeful. “Is it weird that the card just says _ love, Brock?” _

“He said that?” Jane said, voice going up.

“Well, yeah, he said it two weeks ago,” Darcy said. “After the French fry thing. Or during.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jane said. “Crucial data! He said the words?”

“He did,” Darcy said, “but I still don’t have his phone number. That seems like a significant oversight.”

“I’ll keep asking,” Jane said.

“Wait, Jane,” Darcy said. “Do you have his current home address? I could go see him.”

Twenty minutes later, Darcy was standing in front of Brock's door. As soon as Jane said the address, she realized he was still living in the same apartment. It seemed like a security risk, but the building was full of SHIELD people, so she guessed it didn't matter. Her thoughts were all jangly. She reached down to smooth her dress, took a deep breath, and then rapped clearly. From inside, she heard voices. Several voices. _Shit. He has company, _she thought. _Bad Timing. _The door opened. "Hi," she said, nervous.

"Darcy?" he said, beaming so widely that his scars stretched.

"Hi," she repeated. "I got your present, but I don't have your number, so..." 

"Shit," he said, smile falling. "I--I can't let you in."


	7. Christmas...Palm Trees?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“What?” Darcy said. She’d probably been louder than she meant to be. He looked chagrined. When she peered around Brock’s shoulder instinctively, he pulled the door shut a little more. 

“I’m working on something--it’s a surprise for you,” he added quickly. His expression would have been comical, if Darcy hadn’t wondered who he was hiding her from. Another woman? His family?

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, crossing her arms. “Sure.”

“I am, baby,” he said. “Romanoff and Jack are helping me--” he was explaining, when Darcy heard heavy footsteps and Jack stuck his head out.

“Mate, where do you want this one?” he said, gesturing with his free arm. He had a big palm--it looked fake and plastic to Darcy--tucked under the other arm. “Oh, Darcy,” Jack said, grinning ferally. “Didn’t realize it was you.”

“Get back in there,” Brock hissed, “she can’t see that!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack said, disappearing quickly.

“I can’t see Jack’s...shiny plant?” Darcy said, confused. “Because it’s a surprise for me?” She raised her eyebrows skeptically.

“Yes,” he said.

“A shiny plant?” she repeated.

“It’s a surprise,” he said. “A good one...I think. Romanoff’s been helping me, but this one’s--”

“His idea,” Natasha said, sticking her head around the door and smiling in a wicked way. “I want you to remember that this one is  _ totally  _ his idea. I am only taking credit for the perfume.”

“It’s very nice,” Darcy said. “That was a good gift. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Natasha said, giving her an assessing look that was hard to decipher.

“Hey, I paid for it,” Brock said. “Don’t I get some credit?” Romanoff rolled her eyes.

“Take her somewhere,” Natasha told him. “Jack and I can hold down...this situation.” Her voice was sly. She nodded at Darcy and disappeared from view. Behind the door, Darcy heard a  _ thunk  _ and the sound of highly idiomatic Australian swearing. 

“That doesn’t sound good,” she said.

“Do you wanna go someplace?” Brock said. “Just to talk?”

“Sure,” she said.

“I’m getting a jacket. Wait here,” he said. Before he stepped back inside, he looked at her. “Really, don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t,” Darcy said. 

She waited for him. And maybe pressed her ear to the door to listen. She was curious now. She heard Natasha’s voice, calm, low and smooth. “Over here, I think?” she said.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “That’s good. Looks real good. Jack, look at what Romanoff is doing--oh, fuck! Watch the tank! Watch the tank!” There was a small crash. “Shit,” Brock said. “Wait, it’s okay. The tank’s fine.” Darcy heard Jack muttering. 

“I agreed to bloody help you for free,” Jack complained. “This is a mad idea.” Brock apologized. 

“I know, brother, I know--” he said, then dropped his voice. Darcy thought she heard laughter.

“Are we done hugging it out now, because I have a suggestion?” Natasha’s arch voce drifted out to the hallway. Darcy pressed her ear closer to listen. There appeared to be a debate about item placement and then the moving noises resumed. She heard another  _ thump _ and Brock’s voice, this time light and joking. 

“Don’t break my damn floor or that, Jack, it’s a rental. You break it, that thing lives with you now--” she heard Brock saying, before he moved towards the door. Darcy jerked back as he stepped out again. He looked relieved when he saw her. 

“Still here,” she said. “Sounds, um, _ interesting _ in there.”

“Yeah,” he said. Then he smiled. It was a tiny smirk. “Real interesting,” he repeated.

“You sure I can’t see it?” Darcy asked, automatically standing on her tiptoes. He shook his head.

“I’m sure,” he said. “It’s not ready yet, sweetheart.” 

“Okay, fine,” she said, looking at him and making a pouting face. He grinned back. 

“You’ll like it,” he assured her. Then she noticed something. Something familiar.

“You still have that jacket?” Darcy said. She’d given the dark leather one to him as a gift.

“Yeah,” he said. 

“Might be time to throw it out, it looks a little worn,” she said, looking at the battered elbows. 

“No,” he said, looking offended, “I love this jacket.” He tugged it closer, as if she would take it from him.

“Okay, keep your old jacket,” Darcy said, grinning. “Where are we going?”

“You hungry?” he asked.

“I just had dinner. Why don’t you take me to that new place on U Street?” she offered. “The one with good mai tais?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. Then she reached for his hand and squeezed. He looked at her.

“You holding my hand now?” he said.

“You know how I tend to trip,” she said breezily.

“I remember,” he said, expression inscrutable.

“You really weren’t prepared for me to just show up here, huh?” she said, as they left his building.

“No,” he said, smiling slowly. “Not at fucking all, sweetheart.” He squeezed her hand back. 

“You’ve got more callouses,” she said.

“Mostly that thing back there,” he said, chuckling. “Fucking work. You better like it.”

“I make no promises,” she said.

“C’mon,” he said. “This is me being romantic.” They bickered all the way to the bar.

  
  


She was on her first mai tai when he asked about Ian obliquely. “So, you like the perfume?” She nodded. “Did that, uh, cause any problems?” Brock asked, shifting his weight. He drummed his fingers on the table.

“Hmm?” she said, lips around her straw. The bar was very fun. Also, they had good french fries. He hadn’t lied. She tried to read his expression in the darkened bar.

“Boothby? He’s not upset I’m sending you gifts?” he asked.

“Oh. Nope,” Darcy said honestly. “He doesn’t know. We, uh, broke up about two weeks ago--”

“What?” he said, almost choking on his water.

“We broke up,” she said. “We’ve been trying to stay amicable and civilized--”

“What the fuck?” he said. “You didn’t tell me?”

“Well, I was  _ trying,  _ but I didn’t have your number, you hadn’t spoken to me, and then I overheard Natasha Romanoff setting you up with somebody called Rebecca--” Darcy said.

“Shit,” he muttered. “You were gonna tell me you were single?”

“Yes,” Darcy said, picking up a french fry. “I’m afraid you bought fancy perfume and whatever is in your apartment for nothing,” she said wryly. “It better not be snakes. I heard the word tank. You know I hate snakes.”

“It’s not snakes,” he said, smirking. She realized he had relaxed. The tension had ebbed out of Brock’s shoulders and he was looking at her carefully. When she smiled at him, he smiled back, then started to laugh. “I can’t believe you fucking broke up with him two weeks ago,” he said. “He invited me to your goddamn Christmas party!”

“So? We’re doing a grownup-style breakup,” she said. “We can be nice to each other.”

“We never did,” Brock said. “You remember that time you threw my socks at me in the gym?”

“Sorry,” Darcy said. “We had a bad breakup. That’s embarrassing to remember.” He shook his head.

“I didn’t mind,” he said.

“You should mind!” she said. “Things were so rocky between us,” she added. She looked at Brock. He didn’t seem to be bothered, she realized. In fact, he didn’t look like he was thinking about their fights at all. He was practically smoldering at her. She felt a fluttery feeling in her stomach at his heated look.

“You’re single,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. Then he frowned and rubbed his scarred jaw. “Shit,” he muttered.

“What?” Darcy said. 

“My place isn’t going to be ready for a couple of days,” he said. “I was gonna invite you back. It’ll ruin the surprise if you see it tonight.” He scrunched his nose and did a face she recognized as he ‘eh’ expression. It was the same despite the scars. God, she’d missed that face, she realized. It took her breath away to be around him sometimes, just looking at him. “What?” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Well, then I guess you won’t be getting any for two or three days,” she told him, deciding to not reveal that she was undone by a freaking nose scrunch. It would probably make him smug. He snorted.

“Fucking Romanoff and her  _ be more romantic _ advice,” he said. “See where it gets me?” At his grumpy expression, Darcy laughed; she felt joyful. He lit up at the sound. “You missed me?” he asked.

“Yes,” she admitted. He would never admit to being vulnerable, but she could tell when he wanted her to seriously answer.

“I fucking knew it,” he said. 

“Oh, you did, huh?” Darcy said.

“You looked bored, sweetheart,” he said. “Not miserable, just bored.” 

“Okay, yes. But I’m still not getting naked until I make sure there’s not an Indiana Jones situation at your apartment,” she teased. “Also, you were right, I do like these mai tais.” He nodded.

“You want more fries? I’ll get you more fries,” Brock said. 

“You could always cancel the surprise?” she offered, still thinking about spending the night with him. 

“No,” he said. “I want you to see this.”

“Okay,” she said, pressing her lips together and grinning.

“Don’t mock me,” he grumbled. “Besides, Jack would murder me,” he said, standing up and picking up her fry basket.

“Oh no. Wouldn’t want that,” she said. 

“You’d miss me,” he said, smirking.


	8. Holiday in the Tropics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“I missed you,” Brock said urgently, as she straddled his lap. They were kissing in the backseat of her car. He’d driven her back to his apartment complex. Darcy had invited him to go home with her, but he knew Rollins would be pissed at him for bailing. So, they’d compromised. He was going to drive her home, then call Jack and ask for a ride back. Jack would be pissed he'd left them working, but he’d pick Brock up. Probably. “So fucking much,” he added, moaning as she raked her nails through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Mmmm,” she whispered, lips close to his mangled ear. “You still like that?”

“You feel even better than I remember,” he said. He hadn’t imagined that was possible. He’d always loved how soft and yielding she felt under his hands, all gentle curves where he was muscle. Pillowy. 

“Pffhhht,” Darcy said, wiggling. Brock groaned, enjoying the friction of her weight against his jeans. "I've just gained weight." 

“Hey,” he said, pulling back to give her a stern look, “none of that.” 

“What?” she said. Her lipstick was a little smeared under her lip. He traced it with his thumb. She tasted like pineapples. 

“No talking down about yourself,” he said seriously. He’d forgotten her tendency to deflect compliments, too. “I mean that,” he said. “You understand?”

“Yes, Commander,” she parroted back, kissing his scarred cheekbone with a wide smile.

“I know that was sarcasm, but I’m gonna let myself enjoy it, anyway,” he said, reaching down to squeeze her thighs. He really needed to get the condom out of his jeans pocket, he thought, but that would mean making her crawl out of his lap and he didn’t want to. Not yet.

“Mmm-hmmm,” Darcy said, rolling up the edge of his t-shirt. His hands--busy roaming her body--froze for a second. With a sigh, he reached up and clasped her wrist.

“Are you sure?” he said, swallowing. “You’re ready to see this? I don’t look the same,” he added, when she looked at him in puzzlement. “My scars are full body, sweetheart.” He’d planned on the right setting for the first time she would see him naked. He didn’t think he looked too bad--he’d worked to keep his level of fitness under the scarred skin--but he wasn’t the guy she remembered. That was one reason why he’d agreed to Romanoff’s plan to be more demonstrative. 

“Hey,” she said, “no talking down about yourself.” She tapped him on the nose and grinned widely. Brock laughed. 

“I forget,” he joked, “you’ve been settling for pasty and British, so this ain’t so bad, huh?”

“You are totally going to hell,” Darcy told him. “Take off your pants.”

“Here?” he said, delighted.

“Yup,” she said. “If you don’t want to spend the night with me--”

“It’s not about that, baby,” Brock said warmly. 

“It’s not?” she asked. He shook his head, grinning lazily, as he worked on her shirt buttons.

“The two trained agents working on your surprise would know how to hide my body,” he said, thumbing at her nipples under her shirt. She sighed, arching her back.

“What if I--?” Darcy began.

“Hey,” a voice said, startling them both. A face appeared through the condensation on the nearest window. 

“Ahhh!” Darcy said, as Brock shifted her quickly to shield her body, then realized who it was.

“Jesus Christ,” he said. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just Rollins being a pain in my ass,” Brock told Darcy.

“Oh,” Darcy said. She lifted her head and beamed. “Thanks for helping, Jack!” she yelled through the foggy glass. “Hold on, I just need to button my shirt.”

“Hey,” Brock said, rolling down the window as Darcy buttoned, “can you follow me to her place? She's been drinking, I don’t want her to drive,” he told Jack. Brock rubbed her hip idly, then turned to grin at her as Jack stared. She was wiggling back into her bra. “God, you’re amazing,” Brock said.

"Thank you," Darcy said.

“Bloody hell, is this where you’ve been?” Jack said, looking especially feral. “I think I’ve thrown my back out moving damn fake plants--”

“Oh, no,” Darcy said. “I have a really good heating pad at my apartment, I’ll loan it to you.”

“No spoilers about her surprise,” Brock said to him. 

“Fine,” Jack said, “but only because she’s a nice woman. You’re a git. Leaving other people to do all the work...”

“It’s my fault,” Darcy said, “I led him astray, Jack.”

“Yeah,” Brock said, “really, I tried to leave, but she was..persuasive.” He winked at Darcy.

“Shut up,” Jack said. "I can tell when you lie."

  
  
  


“Stay,” Darcy murmured, as they kissed in her kitchen. Brock groaned. She was sucking on his bottom lip. The sensation made the hair stand up on his neck.

“Darcy,” he said. She pulled back to tilt her chin towards him, smiling. 

“Do you have to go?” she said. Her voice was warm. He wavered, but sighed. 

“Yeah,” Brock said, “or there’s a six-foot Australian who’ll pitch a fucking fit and drag me out of here.” 

“We could protect you, my friend?” Thor offered. Brock’s head jerked up. From the living room, Thor and Jane peered over the sofa, both grinning. 

“I forgot they lived here,” Brock said to Darcy. They hadn’t turned the lights on as they stumbled into the apartment.

“I didn’t,” she said.

“You two are cute!” Jane yelled. 

“I think this calls for a celebration,” Thor announced, bouncing up.

“Oh, no,” Darcy said.

“What is it?” Brock asked.

“A group--” she said, before a wall of Asgardian barrelled into both of them.

“Hug!” Thor yelled, grabbing them both in a squeeze.

“Ow,” Brock said.

“He’s very enthusiastic, don’t hurt his feelings,” Darcy whispered in his ear. 

“Got your heating pad and your invite to the holiday party,” Brock said, climbing into the passenger side of Jack’s SUV. He passed over a bag. “Jane and Thor say hello. Darcy put some cookies in there for you, too.” 

“She’s too good for the likes of you,” Jack grumbled.

“Yeah, I know,” Brock said smugly, bucking his seatbelt. He checked his reflection in the mirror. His lips were pink where she’d raked her teeth across them. “The scars make hickeys tougher to see, right?” he asked Jack. “I think she bit me a little.” He rubbed his neck and grinned.

“You’re a child,” Jack said.

“Why were you looking for me?” Brock asked.

“Romanoff made some changes,” Jack said. “She thought you needed some real plants. But she wants you to sign off on her final design.”

“This is supposed to be cheesy, I keep telling you,” Brock said. “She likes cheesy stuff. You can’t make it too fancy or whatever.”

“You think this is gonna be fancy?” Jack said, incredulously. “I dragged cardboard versions of half a zoo to your apartment!”

“It’s not half a zoo,” Brock said. He rubbed his chin. “I still wonder if I should have ordered that big paper mâché giraffe. You think I’ve got time to overnight it?”

“Possibly,” Jack said. “This is an actual handmade invitation?” He’d found it while he was looking for a cookie and held the glittering card up to the car’s interior light. Next to a Santa with glued-on googly eyes, his full name was written in ornate gold script. 

“Yeah,” Brock said, straightening his shirt. “Thor took calligraphy as an elective on Asgard. He’s good.”

“Makes a nice contrast with Santa’s cotton ball hair,” Jack said. Bits of glitter were lodged in the white tuft.

“I think Darcy made that part,” Brock said, swiping one of the cookies. “Looks like her handiwork, all that glitter.” He chewed the sugar cookie with a grin.

“Oy, you thief!” Jack said. “That’s my bikkie!”

“Your fucking what?” Brock said, smirking. 

  
  


Natasha was waiting for Brock when he returned to the apartment. She turned from where she’d been watching his fish in the tank in the middle of the living room and gave him a tiny smile. “Hey, Jack said you brought in some real plants?” Brock asked. He glanced around. The perimeter of his apartment was shrouded in thick, glossy plants and climbing vines. From within the greenery, the cardboard zoo peeked out. Jack had positioned a cardboard tiger as if it was ready to pounce from behind some palms, Brock realized, grinning. Darcy would love it. 

“Just pretty ones,” she said, gesturing to ones she’d placed throughout the room. “Hibiscus, here, some orchids over there, and those orange ones are birds of paradise.”

“Thank you. They’re, uh, beautiful,” he said. They were a nice touch, he could see. The colors stood out against the green backdrop. 

“And expensive,” she added. “Possibly unnecessary, since this is supposed to recreate a tropical chain restaurant for children, but I thought she might like to keep the flowers as gifts.” There was a playful edge to her voice when she said _ children. _

“Hey, Darcy loves themed restaurants,” he said defensively. He looked around the living room. Then he felt himself smiling. “We’re back together. She broke up with Boothby,” he added, unable to keep the words from tumbling out. “About two weeks ago. Told me I was wasting my money doing this.” Nat smiled again as he gazed around the room. “She’s gonna love it, Romanoff.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, expression curious. He inhaled, trying to figure out how to explain why he was trying to recreate a jungle themed restaurant with moving tigers and crocodiles by filling his apartment with fake foliage and cardboard cutouts. 

“Uh,” Brock said, “she’s always wanted to go to one of these Tropical World places, you know? She never went as a kid. I was supposed to take her back when we were dating, but it never worked out. We had the worst fucking luck: I got called away every time we made the reservations. The first time, it was that mission in Antwerp. The second time, it was because Fury wanted me to guard Senator Jones. She used to joke that we were jinxed. The last time, we were in the goddamned parking lot and I got the call for the Zodiac mission.” He shook his head. “It was the week of her birthday. The look on her face,” he said, grimacing. “After we broke up, the one in Virginia closed. Nearest one’s in Orlando now.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Just felt like a metaphor for the whole relationship,” he added, frowning, “not being able to get there, the place closing. I’d missed my window.”

“Well, I think you’re going to be sleeping there now,” Nat said, giving him a gently wry look.

“Yeah, I’ve got to figure out my rainforest sounds and do a set up check on the water feature,” Brock said seriously. In the corner, a rented waterfall was waiting to be unpacked.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was fangirling about a real tropics themed restaurant on tumblr--I didn't know the Rainforest Cafe was a thing, y'all! why did nobody tell me? I need to see one IRL--when Britt1975 told me the funniest story about being jinxed in getting to visit one. So, of course, I put it in this story, because that seemed like a Taserbones thing. Thanks, Britt!


	9. The Thor-Foster-Lewis-Boothby Family Wish You A Merry Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Her phone rang, waking Darcy up at an ungodly hour on Saturday. She squinted at the clock. Without her glasses, all she could tell was that it was ass o’clock in the morning. “Hello?” she said. 

“Hey, baby,” Brock said, sounding alert. She sighed. He was, annoyingly, a morning person. She’d forgotten that pesky detail. 

“You know, you really should call a girl sooner after you make out with her in a car and are interrupted by an irate Australian,” she told him. It had been two days since she’d seen him. He hadn’t even been at work on Friday. She’d checked.

“It’s only been a day,” he said.

“Two, actually,” she said.

“Oh,” he said. “Shit.” There was a moment of silence. “I lost track of time.”

“Working on my mystery surprise?” she asked, rolling over and nestling deeper into her pillows.

“Yeah,” he said. “You wanna come see it tonight?”

“Okay,” she said. “But if it’s snakes--”

“It’s not snakes,” he said. “Wait--are you falling asleep?”

“Possibly,” she admitted.

“I’m, uh, outside. Your door.”

“Oh my God, why didn’t you say something?” she asked. She shuffled out to the apartment door and opened it. A tired-looking Brock masked a yawn.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, scarred features twisting in embarrassment. “Just, uh,” he began. 

“Sleepy?” she said, taking his hand. “Good. Come along.”

“What?” he said, as she locked the door. 

“We’re going to cuddle and nap,” she told him. “And when it’s an hour that actual humans are awake in, I might take your pants off.”

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah.” On the way to her bedroom, they met a sleepy Jane.

“Hey,” Darcy said.

“Hey,” Jane said. 

“Coffee pot’s on a timer,” Darcy said. She negotiated a weekend sleep-in thing with Jane.

“Thank you,” Jane said.

Brock was very warm and very sturdy. Also, sleepy. “Why do you smell like that?” Darcy wondered, pressing her nose close to his neck. She sniffled again. “You smell like….fish,” she said. “Why do you smell fishy?” He chuckled.

“It’s a secret,” he said. 

“You’re not secretly the Gordon’s fisherman now, are you?”

“The who?”

“You know, rain slicker, hook for a hand--” she was saying.

“That’s the guy from _ I Know What You Did Last Summer!” _Jane yelled. They’d left the bedroom door open.

“Her coffee’s working,” Darcy told Brock. “Thanks, Jane!”

“You’re welcome,” Jane called back.

“I forgot how cute you were in a bed,” Brock said.

“Awwwww,” Jane called out.

“I’m shutting the door now,” Darcy said, giggling. Jane made mock _bow-chicka-bow-wow_ noises as she shuffled to the door. Darcy stuck her head out of the bedroom and made a face. “Where is Thor to keep you out of trouble?” she asked Jane.

“He’s asleep, cute in a bed,” Jane said, then giggled. Darcy stuck her tongue out.

“Bite me!” Darcy sassed.

“I got dibs!” Brock yelled.

“Okay, okay, naptime, naughty children,” Darcy mock-scolded, then shut the bedroom door and crawled back in bed. 

“You’re back,” Brock said. They dozed off together. Darcy loved snuggling him, even if he smelled like fish. 

They woke up around eleven. She opened her eyes slowly. “Hey,” Brock said.

“Hey,” Darcy said. There was a pause. She made eye contact. He held her gaze. She let her eyes drift to his neck, then looked up again. “Did you want to--?” Darcy began. She hadn’t gotten the words out before they started stripping each other’s clothes off. “Oh my God,” Darcy said, squealing.

“What?” he said.

“Muscles,” she said. “Are you in even better shape?” She raked her eyes down his abs. “Wow,” she said.

“Did you just say wow?” Brock said.

“Oh, yeah,” she said. She rolled over and reached for condoms in the nightstand and he kissed her back, laughing a little. “Here you go,” she said, passing him the packet. She was so happy, she felt giddy.

“Did you just hum a tune?” Brock asked. “A tune for passing me a fucking condom?”

“Shut up,” she said, pressing her palm over his mouth. “Don’t judge me. I had a nap and now I’m excited about sex with my ex.” He nibbled at her hand and she shrieked. 

“I object to being called an ex,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yes,” he said, kissing her intently. They fumbled for a moment before he moved inside her and then established a rhythm. She’d forgotten how much fun he was. And how good he felt. Her fingers explored the scarred texture of his skin curiously. 

“Oh my God,” Darcy groaned out, delighted. On top of her, Brock grinned and rolled his hips again. “Don’t you--don’t you laugh at me, you buttmunch,” she added.

“No?” he said, halting his movement. “No laughing, huh?”

“Uhhhhhhh,” Darcy said. “I take it back.” When he started to move again, she giggled.

They spent all day in bed, alternating between intense bouts of lovemaking, talking, kissing, and touching. He wanted to hold her, he said. Darcy looked up from where she was kissing his chest. “Yeah?” she said.

“I want you to know you can trust me,” he said, stroking her hair. 

“I do trust you, really,” she said.

“Come on, baby, I had secrets,” he said, sighing. 

“But I would have trusted you to keep me safe back then,” she said. Which was true: she might have suspected him of cheating, but in an alien emergency, she would have wanted him next to her.

“Yeah?” His eyes had gone soft with some unreadable emotion. 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay,” he said, pulling her closer. “Let me kiss you some more.” His obvious joy made her laugh.

“When do I get to see this surprise?” she asked, between kisses.

  
  


“You ready?” Brock asked, as they stood in front of his apartment door. They’d gotten takeout and driven over. “Hold on.” He set the take out bags down and wrapped her scarf over her eyes. “I won’t let you trip.”

“Okay,” Darcy said nervously. She stepped in carefully. Brock was holding her elbows. 

“Stay here,” he said. She felt him move, getting the food and shutting the door. 

“Okay, I’m sweating,” she said. 

“Lemme get the lights,” he said. “Be patient.”

“I have no patience!” she said. 

“Okay,” he said, returning to her side. He inhaled. “This is it.” She thought he said it more for himself than her. His fingers pulled her scarf away carefully. Darcy blinked, then looked at his apartment. She’d practically lived here, years ago, but she was momentarily disoriented, until the kitchen island grounded her and gave her bearings.

“Holy shit,” she said. The entire apartment was filled with glossy fake plants, like a mini Amazon. “Oh my God, a tiger!” she said, pointing to a cardboard cutout behind some vines. She whooped joyfully. “And an elephant. It’s like, uh, a movie set or, um--” She was trying to think of exactly what it reminded her of, but she was dazzled.

“A Tropical World restaurant?” he prompted gently. “I wanted to recreate it for you. Rented this stuff from a party place.” Darcy was so floored by the wave of emotion she felt, she put her hand over her mouth. She wanted to cry. She was going to cry. “You okay?” he said, rubbing her shoulders. She nodded and put her hand down, biting her lip to hold back the tears.

“You remembered we were going to go all those times?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m going to set the table, baby,” he added, “so we can have dinner.”

“Can I look around?” Darcy asked. She knew she was going to cry. Maybe she could sob behind a plastic palm tree and that would be less weird.

“Yeah,” he said. She hugged him, squeezing as hard as she could.

“Thank you,” she said. “This is--this is too much.” She gestured, then wiped away a few tears that had escaped without permission.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Go look around. I’ll find you.” 

He’d made pathways with the fake plants. She snapped photos for Jane, delighted. It was amazing. She’d circled towards the part of the living room that normally held his TV when she stopped, stunned. There was a huge fishtank. The fish drifted by, framed by green fake plants. “This is so cool,” Darcy said, when Brock appeared at her elbow. “You rented a fish tank?” she said, wide-eyed. He shook his head.

“That’s mine, that's why I smelled funny, I'd fed 'em before I left,” he said. He slid his arms around her waist. “I got it after I did the Crossbones stuff,” he said, voice quiet. “I remembered how you always talked about aquariums calming people down.”

“Yeah?” she said.

“It was a bad time,” he said, chin on her head. “So, I tried to do things I thought you’d tell me to do.”

“Really?” she said. She couldn’t keep the quaver out of her voice.

“Named that blue and yellow one Grumpy ‘cause he looks fucking miserable all the time,” Brock said. Darcy leaned forward.

“He really does,” she said, starting to laugh and cry at the same time. She buried her face against his chest and sobbed.

“It’s okay,” he said, kissing her forehead. “It’s okay.”

“What kind of fish is he?” Darcy asked, sniffling and looking up at him.

“He’s a goddamned angelfish,” Brock said, smiling at her tenderly.

“Oh no,” she said. “A grumpy angelfish.”

“He’s a real asshole, actually,” Brock said. “I had to put the other angelfish in the smaller tank in the bedroom.”

“Oh,” she said.

“C’mon, come eat semi-warm take out with me, I feel bad making you cry,” he said, urging her towards the kitchen island.

“I’m only half-sad,” she told him. “That we missed time. The rest of me is really, really happy.” 

“Good,” he said. He kept having to remind her to eat because she got distracted by the cutout animals and would leave the table to take photos. “Get back here!” Brock said, laughing. “You’re like a distracted toddler.”

“But this is so cute!” Darcy insisted. “Who did that?”

“Probably Romanoff, you can thank her and Jack, too.”

“I really, really need to,” Darcy said. “This is sooo cool.” 

“Baby, it’s not going anywhere,” he said. “You’ve got it for a whole week. Plus, I still gotta make you a volcano brownie whatever it is.”

“This is the best date I’ve ever been on,” Darcy said. 

***

“This is the weirdest date I’ve ever been on,” Brock said. Darcy turned her head. She was sitting in his lap, but had been looking at the party-goers.

“What?” Darcy replied, fingers in his hair. It was hard to hear him over the music. “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” was playing. They were sitting in the corner during the Thor-Foster-Lewis-Boothby holiday party. 

“This is a weird date,” he said, laughing. “My girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend is the co-host.”

“He looks like he’s really enjoying meeting Jack’s family,” Darcy said. Ian was dancing with Jack’s tall, extremely tan cousin. “What was her name again?”

“Amy,” Brock said. “That damn hooligan’s name is Amy and she’ll probably get Boothby arrested.”

“She hasn’t gotten you arrested, has she?” Darcy said, feeling a stab of jealousy. Amy seemed fun.

“Nope,” Brock said, smirking. “I’m completely immune to women who can drink me under the table and have backpacked through Indonesia enough times to have crazier stories than me.”

“Really?” Darcy said, narrowing her eyes. 

“My masculine self-esteem’s too fragile,” Brock said, with mock delicacy. He leaned forward. “Also, I only love you,” he whispered.

“Shut up,” Darcy said, nuzzling him. “Love you even more.”

“Nuh-uh, not possible.”

“Yes, it is,” she insisted.

“Unlikely,” Brock said.

“Really?” Darcy pouted.

“I’m the one who loves more in this thing,” he said, “but you can show me your boobs later and that’ll make up for it.”

“Ugh!” Darcy said, mock-swatting him. “Just marry me already!” He froze slightly, evidently surprised, then grinned.

“You asking?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “I am. I’m asking you.”

“Okay,” he said. He sipped his beer, then smirked again. “You gonna buy me jewelry?” 

“Yes,” Darcy said. “Wait, hold on--” she said, sliding out of his lap. “I’ll be right back.” He watched as she disappeared in the party crush. She returned a few moments later, grinning. “Catch!” she yelled, then tossed something at him. 

“What the hell is this?” Brock said, staring at the large ring in his hands. It looked like a gumball. A blue-grey gumball in a big ring.

“My uncle Tom’s star sapphire ring, he gave it to me for the stone,” she said. “You’re all engaged up now, mister.”

“Are you fucking with me?” he said.

“Nope,” she said, sliding into his lap and putting the ring on his finger. “Mama’ll buy you something you really like later, though.” She started to giggle. “That’s, like, fifteen carats of man bling from Frank Sinatra’s day.” The Christmas music had switched to Rat Pack.

“I could wear man bling,” he said, straightening a little. “I like Sinatra.”

“You could, you have confidence,” Darcy said. “Enough confidence to pull that off.”

“Yeah,” Brock said, looking at his hand.

“Merry Christmas,” she told him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Nobody’s ever given me jewelry before.” 

-The End-


End file.
